


And the Siren Sings Farewell

by AraSigyrn



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Known!Magic!AU, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: Nobody finds out that Marner's pelt's been stolen until after the Leafs have crashed and burned.And Tyson Barrie has a lot of questions to ask about the mysterious merfolk who gets it back.
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Connor Brown
Comments: 53
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

The bubble works out even better than Bettman's wet dreams.

Nobody finds out that Marner's pelt's been stolen until after the Leafs have crashed and burned.

Tyson feels more out-of-place than ever before. He’s been playing for the team for months. Everyone’s been so nice. He still feels like he can turn around and his old team, his real team, will be waiting for him in the visitor's locker room. He's not feeling too bad about not being able to do anything. Even the guys who've been playing with Marns for his whole NHL career are just sitting around, trying not to look at where Marns is sobbing into the fleece blanket that had been in the bag that was supposed to hold his pelt. Matts and Mo are sitting on either side of him, keeping him upright. Tyson doesn't have anything to contribute; he's played with Selkies before but Nate always had one of the trainers keep his pelt during the season. He mentions that just to say something in the charged silence.

"He's not stupid!" Matts snaps. "Marns does that too but they gave to someone else back when they suspended the season and no-one fucking checked!"

"Okay," Tyson backs into his locker with his hands held up. Matts looks ...deranged. Freddie is sitting in his locker, hands glowing and Tyson kinda drifts down to watch. He's never shared a locker room with an actual honest-to-god wizard before, not that you'd know Freddie was a wizard most of the time. He never talks about it and Tyson's childhood fascination with fairytales hadn't been enough to make him push. There's all sorts of restrictions on magic use in the league which Tyson's never had to worry about. He's not sure Freddie actually got permission to cast in Scotiabank actually but he's sure Freddie doesn't care.

Freddie's hands glow red, then gold then...nothing.

Freddie starts cursing in Danish and Tyson takes a few prudent steps back.

"What's wrong?" JT proves he's worthy of the C by stepping up.

"Vand," Freddie shakes his head. "Water."

"Fuck!" Tyson, Ceci and Willy say simultaneously.

"Saltwater," Freddie clarifies.

Tyson peers around Soupy. Marns is sitting with Mo, white as the ice outside. Hyms crosses over to pat his shoulder. Willy clears his throat, one eye on Coach. JT and Freddie both look at him. "We could ask Naz?"

"Naz?" Spezza chimes in. "Like Kadri? Why? What's he going to do?"

"He's the one who got it back last time," Willy says with a shifty look at Marns.

"Last time?" Coach echoes. He doesn't look happy.

"First year in the show," Matts glares at Willy. "Babs was..."

"Babs was Babs," Willy shrugs. "But Naz said he knew somebody and he got it back."

"But he's in the bubble too?" Tyson points out.

"He didn't get it back himself," Willy explains. Then he has to explain it a bit more because Tyson is lost. Kadri's part- _Ifriiti_ apparently which just gets the boys more confused because _Ifriiti_ are Fire and Air and just as useless in Water as humans. Tyson's wondering if Willy's lost it but Willy turns out to be a genius because Nazem Kadri, as it turns out, knows one of the merfolk.

"Man or Maid?" Kerf asks flippantly.

"Not a mermaid," Mo says before Willy can answer. "One of the _merfolk_."

There's a brief silence. Tyson's got so many questions. He's never actually seen one of the merfolk. They're not very fond of humans. He had mono one summer during the negotiations for the trans-Atlantic undersea cables and even the news hadn't gotten more than blurry footage of the merfolk delegation. They're not interested in the surface world at all and, since they're also one of the most powerfully magical races on the planet, they're able to just ignore it. Most of the rest of what he knows about them is from fairytales; all but impervious to magic, strong, fierce and capital-D _Dangerous_. If whoever stole Marns's pelt is hiding it in the water, a merfolk would be able to find them. Probably take apart whoever did it too.

"Call him," Coach says.

Mo digs out his phone but JT shakes his head. "I'll call."

He pulls out his own phone and scrolls through his contacts. Everyone's just watching as the phone rings. Kadri picks up and there's some polite chit-chat because JT is incapable of being rude even to one of his oldest friends. Tyson's jiggling his foot, tapping his skate-blade against the mat.

"Yes," JT says. "Stolen. Willy says you got it back last time..."

He listens.

"No, no, Naz, we _tried_. Freddie says-he says it's in saltwater."

There's another pause as Coach gestures for him to put it on speaker.

"John," Kadri's voice sounds tinny. "I can't make promises. I'll ask, okay? But I can't promise anything."

"Naz-"

"It's Marns, I know," Kadri sighs. "I'll call them right now."

"Thanks, Naz," JT hangs up.

"All right, get showered," Coach says. It takes a minute before the boys start shuffling out of the locker room. Tyson pulls out his own phone and calls Nate as soon as he's done. The Avs are doing a team dinner so Nate immediately puts him on Face-time and Tyson's honestly just hoping to chat to the guys and distract himself. He's shooting the shit with Gabe as Nate carries his phone over to where EJ is nursing his single beer. He catches Kadri's shoulder, just as Nate's turning the camera around and he doesn't mean to eavesdrop! All he really hears is "-'s Mitch, bud-"

Except it didn't sound like 'buddy' exactly.

Tyson honestly doesn't think much of it because Kadri calls back before they're even back to the hotel. One of the assistant coaches gets sent down to the waterfront. Kadri doesn't really have instructions for them beyond that. Coach is looking kinda doubtful but Dubas says they have to do something so off the guy goes. He's on the phone to Dubas while JT and the letters pace around and the rest of the boys hang out and try to keep Marns distracted.

They all hear the yelp and the screech of brakes as Dubas pulls the phone away from his ear. Tyson hopes the guy was on handsfree. There's some shouting about a bag hitting his hood and Dubas looks at JT who shrugs. "What sort of bag?"

"Looks like a Leaf bag," the poor guy says. "Should I bring it back?"

"Yes," Dubas says. He looks over at Shanahan. "Is there a risk?"

"Mers can't catch COVID," Hyms says. "Stromer was saying that. Wrong biology. They're not even carriers."

"We'll sort it out," is all Shanahan says.

The bag, one of the team gear bags, is still soaking wet when it arrives on one of the little wheeled carts that the hotel uses. It's a Leafs bag but Marns shakes his head immediately. "That's not the bag it was kept in."

He reaches for it anyway and the air crackles. "The fuck?!"

"It's enchanted," Dubas says, frowning. "Freddie?"

Freddie's already there, pushing through the rest of the team. He crouches down and reaches a tentative hand out, the glow just starting to spread out from his palm...and the bag glows blue for a second before the blue glow just evaporates into the air. There's a hum in the air that makes Tyson look over his shoulder reflexively. He's not the only one but Freddie doesn't look worried, just surprised.

"Det er min..."

"Freddie?" Dubas demands.

"It's safe," Freddie catches the zipper. "It was ...uh, warded."

Tyson's afire with curiosity. Freddie's English is better than most North Americans. He doesn't think he's ever seen him struggling for the right word before. Freddie pulls the zip open and three shining white teeth plink on the polished marble of the floor. They're badass; like something you'd expect to get from a dragon's mouth. Tyson kinda wants to take one but Freddie sweeps them up even as he turns the bag over and the silken pelt inside slides out. Marns makes a high-pitched sound in his throat and snatches it up.

It looks way too big for him but Marns hugs it so tight, Tyson thinks for a second he's put it on. He sniffles as he buries his face in it and Tyson...well, Tyson would probably be more comfortable if Marns was jerking off in front of him. This seems too private. He ducks his head and Kerfy follows him out along with most of the team. Freddie too, which surprises him a little. The boys are starting to unclench, bumping shoulders and smiling around at each other. Freddie's not so gloomy, eyes bright and shoulders straghtening out.

"Were those teeth?" Kappy asks Freddie.

"Ja," Freddie opens his hand and Tyson crowds closer. The teeth are really more like fangs but they're serrated down one edge in a way that makes him think of shark teeth.

"Are they glowing?" Tyson asks.

Freddie hesitates for a second before he nods. "They're mer teeth. Our ...friend used them to protect the pelt. It's inside- _intrinsic_ magic."

"Did we know merfolk can do that?" Tyson asks the curious gaggle of hockey players around them. "Cause I didn't."

"No," Zach shakes his head. "Merfolk have magic but I thought it was ritualistic."

"Not them ripping bits out to cast spells," Willy finishes.

"Those kinda look like shark teeth," Tyson says. Freddie closes his hand over them when Tyson tries to get closer. "Maybe they grow back?"

"We should ask Mitch," Willy says then he looks at the closed door. "Later. We should ask him later but he's a selkie, they have to know something about merfolk."

"You're right," Zach looks like he wants to go right back in but he's too nice a dude to just go barging in. Freddie's already turning towards his own room, eyes narrowed like he's back in the crease. The rest of the boys scatter back to their own rooms. Tyson walks Kerfy to his room then he wanders down the corridor. Shanahan and Dubas have bounced and there's no sign of Mitch or JT. Tyson goes back to his own room but he can't settle. He scrolls through Snapchat; Nate's gotta be drunk or tipsy at least. He pauses on one shot. Nate was probably trying to take a selfie but the angle's all wrong. Kadri's just visible and his phone screen is the brightest thing in the shot.

Tyson stares until the picture erases itself. Then he brings up Google and types 'Connor Brown' into the search bar. He knows Brown in the same way he knows a lot of guys in the show. They're met once or twice. Brown was a Leaf before Tyson was. He was friends with Hyms, Nylander and the rest of the younger players. He's a decent guy, judging by what Tyson's heard which isn't much. Hyms talks to him sometimes when they're in the bus and he's heard a couple of stories from the training staff. Stubborn and persistent, he remembers, a good old Candadian boy.

Nothing Tyson's ever heard says that Brown is anything but human. Nothing in the first fifteen pages of results says Brown is anything but human.

Tyson Googles 'merfolk' and finds like, three good results. There's a lot of crazy pages, linked by the sort of Facebook accounts that think tinfoil hats are Big Government trying to turn the people into a deep-space radar but there's a page from the US State Department that says right upfront that there's a lot of questions but it does include a reminder that merfolk are shapeshifters, bimorphs capable of taking on a human appearance that passes all the usual magical tests and won't show any obvious genetic markers.

"Merfolk do not usually spend time on the surface," the website concludes, "although this seems to be a cultural taboo rather than a physiological restriction. If you interact with one, you should behave as you would when dealing with a dryad or _Ifriiti_."

Huh. Tyson stares at the ceiling and thinks. He knows some stuff about _Ifriiti_ because they're more common in Europe. Did Kadri call in a favour or did he offer one? How would that work? Does the team owe it? He thinks they should but he doesn't know who's going to pay it. Does Dubas? Does Shanahan? Or is it JT who's on the hook? Nobody was talking like they knew they were going to have pay back a favor.

The knock on his door startles him enough that he drops his phone. Willy's on the other side, a very familiar pelt bundled up in his arms. Tyson blinks at the pelt, then blinks at Willy.

"I need your help," Willy says as he just barges in.

"Uh, sure?"

Willy spreads the pelt out on the carpet, fussing over the corners and straightening out the whiskers. It's even bigger than Tyson had expected which is stupid because he just saw it but it's still huge. You could fit Marns's whole line under it, that kind of huge.

"Shouldn't Mitch still have this?"

"No," Willy huffs. "He'll vanish back to the sea as soon as he sees a chance and he might not come back in time for training camp. It's an instinct thing and selkies have really bad time perception even when the season isn't fucked by pandemics. I'll have it tonight and then I'll pass it on so he doesn't know which of the boys have it but it's still safe. He doesn't want the trainers having it right now."

"Makes sense," Tyson watches him fuss over it. "So what do you need my help with?"

"Need you to take pictures." Willy shoves his phone into Tyson's hands. "So he knows it's safe and I'm taking care of it."

"Okay," Tyson finds the camera. Willy's wrapped up in the pelt. He never even sees Tyson pull up his contacts. Tyson doesn't have his flash on so Willy doesn't see him take a picture. The picture of Brown on the contact screen is of him in a Marlie's uniform looking like a kid with a smile like sunshine. He looks human.

Willy leaves once the pictures are taken. Tyson enters Brown's number and finds him on WhatsApp pretty much immediately. He stalls out a bit, trying to think what to say. Merfolk are scary. He doesn't want to get tangled up in this deal. He likes Marns fine but merfolk, scary. On the other hand, he's out of Toronto. This won't be his business as soon as he walks out of the bubble. If he wants answers, he has to ask now. He taps the newly-saved number.

> > _So i have a question?_

 _Who's this?_ < <

> > _Barrie. thanks for the save_

There's a pause. A significant pause even.

 _for what?_ < <

> > _Getting Marn's pelt back._

 _it was stolen?!_ < <

> > _and you got it back_

 _i think you're confused._ < <

> > _seriously? didn't any of them guess?_

 _guess what?_ < <

Tyson tries a couple of more times but Brown keeps dodging the question. It might be enough to make Tyson reconsider but. But Tyson's sisters used to read fairytales all the time. He remembers the rules. Brown never actually says no. He never even admits that they're talking about merfolk. He says a lot of things that sound like denial but aren't. Tyson wonders if he's afraid to put it in writing. He hits call. Brown doesn't answer the first time. Tyson calls him again.

"Hello?" Brown sounds so fucking young.

"Hey," Tyson says. "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone. I just want to know what we owe you."

Another pause and Brown sighs. "I'm not doing this over the phone."

"Well, I'm still in the fucking bubble until after media tomorrow," Tyson snaps. "And no-one is saying shit about this whole mess."

"Really?" Brown doesn't sound surprised. He sounds a little like Tyson had felt back when the trade had been announced, like he was hoping for better but had to put on a good face for the cameras. "Huh. Well, I can come to you."

"There's security," Tyson mentions but he's invested now and he thinks, maybe knows, that if he hangs up that Brown won't answer him again. He wants to know how the Maple Leafs had a genuine merfolk on the team and never realized and why Brown still helped. He doesn't think Marns has said anything about Brown and Tyson's burning up with curiosity now. He has to know.

"I'll handle it," is all Brown says. "I'm down by the water. Give me half an hour."

"I'll be in the lobby," Tyson says because there's some seats by the reception that aren't immediately visible. He can probably hide out there until he sees how Brown-how Connor is going to sneak in.

"Fine," Connor says and hangs up.

Tyson skulks down the stairs. Nobody's hanging out in the corridors tonight. Even the trainers are licking their wounds in private. He makes it down the lobby with fifteen minutes to spare so he buys three water bottles from the one vending machine that works. He makes his way back with plenty of time to spare, he really does want to see how Connor sneaks in.

Connor sneaks in by walking straight in the front doors and right past the whole four man security team watching the doors. None of them look at him once, much less twice. Connor is wearing a tatty old Otters hoody, ragged jeans and battered sneakers. He has the hood pulled up but he looks straight up at Tyson and climbs the stairs to meet him.

"Hey," Tyson thrusts one of his water bottles at him. Connor takes it with a slightly bemused smile.

"Thank you?"

"It's hot as balls," Tyson says. "Need to keep hydrated. Also, heads up, I'mma hug you."

"What?" Connor winces backwards when Tyson hugs him. The breath that hisses through his teeth is part pain but part something else that raises the hairs on the back of Tyson's neck and all the way down the dip of his spine.

"Shit, sorry!" He lets go with more care than he'd latched on. "I just- You bailed us out hard, you know?"

"Not your fault," Connor looks around but the security team remain stoic and oblivious. "It's just, well..."

He hesitates another second before he pulls off the hoodie and Tyson winces too. Connor's pale as the ice so the raised red edges of the bites that litter his arms and what of his chest Tyson can see behind the wife-beater are really obvious.

"What the fuck?"

"It's a long story," Connor hedges.

"I got a whole summer," Tyson fires back. "And I fucking knew it!"

"Yeah, yeah," Connor mostly collapses into the seat across from him. "Congratulations. You're the only human hockey player who's put the pieces together."

"Only human?"

"Naz is _Ifriiti_ and Stromer's a throwback and even he didn't realize it until I dragged him into the water," Connor says. His phone buzzes and he mutes it. "Naz took eight months to sniff me out."

"How is that even possible?" Tyson demands. "How'd you get scouted in the first place? Do merfolk have hockey?"

"No," Connor ducks his head, looking away. "No hockey but I got scouted the same way everyone else does."

"Wait, what?" Tyson demands and it takes another three bottles of water and nearly an hour to get the whole story out of Connor. He's pure merfolk, 100% nonhuman but he's also spent his whole life on land, barring occasional holidays to visit his grandparents. It's the sort of conversation that can only really happen at 2 am with the rest of the world asleep and most of the lights out.

"My folks...they couldn't conceive in the Deep," Connor explains. "It's too harsh, too magical. So they came up and had us. Food's more abundant and they wanted us to know about humans. Some of my cousins...well, they still think World War 1 was a fucking stupid stunt."

"How long do you guys live?"

"My great-great-great-grandmother is about 15,000," Connor says like that isn't the freakiest shit. "We don't die of old age. There's more than enough other ways to die down there. It's why having kids is such a big deal. But coming up is still...you just don't."

When Tyson presses, Connor admits that his parents have mostly gone back. They come to some of his games but their house is let, their non-water-proof possessions are in storage and they spend more time underwater than on land. His brother is full time in the water too.

"That must be lonely," Tyson says, choosing his words carefully.

"I'll see them soon," Connor half-shrugs.

"Why didn't you go with them?" Tyson asks and Connor peels the label off his bottle in narrow strips.

"Hockey," he says simply. "They wouldn't push while I was a Leaf. They wouldn't take that from me."

"Uh-huh," Tyson can feel the hanging 'but' on that sentence. There's a whole looming elephant in this conversation.

"Now, well, I don't have that." Connor presses his thumb into the empty bottle. There's the faintest pop. "It's nearly over. They wanted to take me back when I went after Marns' pelt and seriously, how did he lose it _twice_?"

"Some dick paid off a security guard," Tyson says. "Figured he'd pay to get it back. Might have been a fan."

"Fuck," Connor shakes his head. "I hope they plan better next year."

"No saving him a third time?" Tyson says and Connor's fingers...his _claws_ puncture the bottle. He sighs and drops the shredded plastic on the floor.

"I won't be here for a third time," he says. "I barely got away from them this time."

"Wait, that was your people?" Tyson gestures at the bite marks still red and raw.

"Yeah," Connor shrugs. "They've been getting pushier since the season was suspended and I won't be able to fight them off on my own."

"Why on your own?" Tyson gapes at him. "Who's supposed to be helping you?"

"He's not-" Connor hunches his shoulders. "It's not like that. It's just a spell that's all-"

"Freddie's ditching you?" Tyson thinks he might have sprained his eyebrows.

"I never said it was Freddie!" Connor glares back at him. Tyson manages to get his eyebrows a little higher. "It...it wasn't like that. He casts protection spells, right? On the whole team."

"But you're not-" Tyson catches himself a second too late. He's not that much of a dick.

"But I'm not on the team anymore," Connor finishes. "I know but he never actually broke the spell which means it has to wear off on its own."

"Spells do that?" Tyson is intrigued again.

"Yeah," Connor's smile is bitter. "A year and a day."

"Oh." Tyson can't imagine. He's sucked worse than he's ever sucked over the last season but he's still going to be playing next year. He tries to imagine knowing that the end of his career is coming. He can't even begin to imagine losing Nate and all his friends like that. He wouldn't be nearly as put together as Connor is. He sure as shit wouldn't be bailing out the team and getting himself mauled to help someone who doesn't even talk about him. "Who knows that?"

"Naz," Connor shrugs.

"But how did Freddie do that?" Tyson thinks to ask. "I didn't think human magick worked on merfolk."

"It doesn't," Connor picks at a loose thread on the side of his jeans. "Usually."

"I'm not following...?" But that's not true because Tyson's read versions of all the fairytales in the world and there's one magic loophole. Connor's blush looks painful and Tyson can't manage to look him in the eye. "Love?"

"I know," Connor tells his beat-up sneakers. "It's stupid. He barely remembers I exist."

"I-" Tyson actually can't reassure him on this. Freddie doesn't talk about him where Tyson can hear. Only Hyms and Mango really mentioned Connor at all and that's kinda dickish, now that Tyson thinks about it. "I'm sorry, dude. That sucks."

Connor deflates, folding in on himself. "Yeah, well. It won't matter soon. They're not gonna let me back for a century at least. It'll be forgotten by then."

Ouch. Tyson is, like, morally obligated to hug him again. He's kinda mad at Freddie a little too. It sucks that Connor's so obviously given up and he's helped them out even when they don't talk to him. "You're too nice, dude."

"A few decades in the Deep'll fix that," Connor pats his back and stands up. "I should get back. The media will be swarming as soon as they can."

"Can't you just whammy them?"

"Too much risk," Connor offers him a wan smile. "And, no offense, but I don't need to hang around."

"That's fair," Tyson does hug him again. "For real though? Thank you so much for the save. Marns was fucked up about it."

"No problem," Connor's smile is still weak but it's real. "I'm happy to help. No debt."

"Well, uh," Tyson waves a hand. "If you wanna talk or hang out or anything...you got my number right?"

"I do," Connor hugs him. "I'm sorry the season sucked."

"You and me both."

There isn't really anything else to say but Tyson lingers as Connor pulls on his hoodie, puts the last unopened bottle of water in his hoodie pocket and checks his phone. There's a bunch of notifications and Connor shakes his head. "Naz really wants to talk, I guess."

He slips back out past security just as the dawn light starts to dispel the last of the dark. He waves once at Tyson who feels...tired. Deflated. He just spent most of the night hanging with a genuine, honest-to-Gretzky mythic creature and all he feels is hollow and sad in a dull way that's probably going to linger. Brown deserved better. They all did. That's not the same as getting it.

Tyson goes back upstairs. He's not sleepy but it will be a couple of hours before they're expected to shuffle out in front of the cameras and answer for the disaster that was their post-season. It doesn't matter. He has instant coffee in his room and he's going to drink it, answer his questions and get the fuck out of Toronto. His phone buzzes just as he steps out of the elevator. A text from Connor. " _thx for the talk._ "

Tyson snorts and stops long enough to fire off a reply. " _thx again for the save. sorry im the only one who said it._ "

He's so wrapped up in his phone that he doesn't even register the door to his left opening until Freddie hauls him in. Tyson oofs as Freddie slams him back against the door. Freddie looks furious. He's looming and he's bigger than he is when he's wearing fucking pads, the fuck?

"Tyson," Freddie says and shit, that's Freddie's 'in the zone' deadpan. Tyson's whole world shrinks to Freddie's narrowed eyes. "Care to explain why Naz has been blowing up my phone on why I shouldn't listen to a word you have to say about Connor Brown?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mitch is trailing JT down the corridor when he sees Brutes coming the other way. Mitch should be asleep but the jittery fear is still working its way out of his system. He knows his pelt is safe but all his instincts are screaming at him to find it and wrap himself up so tightly that no-one will ever take it off him again. He wants the water, the big anonymous expanse of the sea and the heavy chill of the deep water. The season's over, it's not like Mitch is going to miss games or anything. The brief exposure to his pelt has him worked up and well, if he's going to have to put up with a heightened sense of smell, he should get some of the benefit too! He's halfway through pleading his case to JT _again_ when Freddie hauls Brutes into his room four doors away.

"Shit," JT stuffs his phone in his pocket. Mitch runs down the hall after him. He's running a little slower than JT. If Freddie's snapped, Mitch isn't even going to slow him down. Besides, technically Matts is wearing the 'A' right now. He sees a couple of doors open; no-one's sleeping after a loss like that. JT waves them all back to their rooms as he knocks on the door.

"Freddie? Tyson?"

Mitch can hear Freddie through the door. Not the words but the tone. He'd run this far but now his legs won't move. That tone from Freddie means bad, bad things. JT must not hear what Mitch is hearing because he hammers on the door again. The door rattles then opens just enough that JT and Mitch can come in. Freddie's got a hand fisted in Brutes's shirt and he's holding him on tip-toe. He doesn't even look angry and JT breathes out like he's relieved.

Two years, the part of Mitch's brain that isn't calculating how fast he can make it back through the door thinks, two years JT's been on the team. How the holy fuck has he never learned that Freddie's most explosive bad temper doesn't show on his face? The air's practically seething with Freddie's magic. Mitch can feel all the hair on his arms and legs stand up. He can smell smoke and metal on the air. Freddie's magic is usually so restrained during the season but Mitch is a selkie and his people have known wizards like Freddie since before they had a name for themselves.

(Willy calls him a Viking with a too-bright smile when he has too many drinks in him and Freddie laughs and doesn't correct him.)

Freddie isn't laughing now. He looks like he does when he's prepping for a shoot-out, all that intensity boiled down to a laser focus. JT glances at Brutes like he's expecting him to crack a joke but Brutes's expression twists and he shoves at Freddie. It's not a casual shove. It's got _intent_ behind it. Mitch has seen him shove fucking _Marchand_ with less intent than he's pushing at Freddie. Freddie doesn't even rock back on his heels. He just pulls Brutes up another half an inch and glares down at him.

"Hey now," JT says, hands raised and Brutes slants a look at him that isn't that friendly. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing!" Brutes spits at the same time as Freddie says "Barrie's explaining why Naz is texting me about the lies he's telling about Connor."

"Connor?" JT asks but there's only one Connor that matters when you're talking to Freddie. Mitch is already puffing up; Brownie may not be a Leaf on paper these days but he's still Mitch's boy. 

"The fuck are you saying about Brownie?" he demands.

"I'm not saying shit," Brutes snarls and Freddie snarls right back at him. "You're all dicks anyway!"

"Hey!" JT holds Mitch back. "That's not polite."

"Just let me go-!" Brutes starts and Mitch inhales sharply through his nose. 

"Why do you smell like Brownie?" He sees the fresh stains on Brutes's t-shirt even as he registers the hot-iron overtone. "Is that his _blood_?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Freddie slams Brutes back hard enough that the stupid hotel painting falls off the wall. JT gets between them, shoulder wedged against Freddie's ribs. It's barely enough to keep Freddie from Brutes's throat but Brutes does not get how lucky he is to still be breathing; he's glaring up at Freddie. Mitch is already texting Hyms and Mo on autopilot. 

He can taste Brownie's blood on every inhale. It's probably a little fucked up that he knows what Brownie's blood tastes like on the air but Brownie's a hockey player. He was always at least bruised and Mitch had spent three seasons sharing a locker room with him. He'd always been Mitch's prefered seat-mate, especially after Marty was traded. Brownie just got it when Mitch was tired and pining for the sea. Chilling with Brownie always felt like swimming underwater, the easy glide and the hushed sounds. Mitch has missed him but he's not the kind of jerk who's going to harsh Brownie's stellar season just because he's a sad sack.

"Let's just calm down and talk this out like adults, okay?" JT says.

"What the fuck have you been saying about Brownie?" Mitch demands because Freddie's clearly past the point of questions. 

"I haven't said anything about him!"

"So now you're calling Naz a liar?" Mitch is feeling punchy. He's exhausted but the anger is boiling up.

"If he's saying that I'm talking shit about Connor, then yeah!" Brutes jerks his chin up.

"You made him bleed!" Mitch's voice lilts up and cracks.

"I didn't-!" Brutes shakes his head. "The fuck do you care?"

That was even less the right thing to say than Mitch's comment. Freddie's snarl is fucking animalistic and even JT sways away from him with wide eyes. Brutes swallows but he's not backing down. He glances at JT and Mitch and tries to break Freddie's hold again. He might as well have tried shoving Scotiabank barehanded for all the good it does.

"I've been in the room for a year now and you talk more about JV-fucking-R than you ever talk about Connor."

"Stop using his name like that," Mitch snaps. Brownie is _Brownie_. He's only Connor to his mom and the PR heads.

"I'm using his actual name!"

"His name is _Brownie_!" Mitch insists. 

"And we're getting off topic," JT says, all tired dad-voice this time. "Mitch, he couldn't have done anything to Brownie, he's still in the bubble-"

Freddie snarls again at Brutes's guilty twitch. Mitch is feeling pretty growly himself. JT turns his head to fix Brutes with a flat stare. Brutes kinda ducks his head and refuses to meet JT's judging eyes.

"Tell me you didn't just skip out of the bubble to harass Brownie," JT says flatly.

"I didn't leave the bubble!" Brutes insists and he sounds genuine. Mitch's phone buzzes and he opens the door to Zach and Willy who's looking like he was in the middle of a photo shoot. Photogenic bastard.

"What's going on?" Zach asks the room in general.

"Brutes is talking shit about Brownie," Mitch says. JT covers his eyes with a groan. Zach and Willy both stiffen and turn to glare at Brutes.

"I am not!"

"Naz says you are!"

"Naz does not!" Brutes snaps. "That's not what he means and all I was doing was saying thank you to Connor because _someone_ on the team shoulda!"

"Thank you? For what?" Zach asks.

"Uh, saving Mitch's-?" Brutes almost visibly slams the brakes on that but now Mitch is confused. The fuck is he talking about? He looks around but all the boys are just staring at Brutes in confusion.

"Explain," Freddie grates. " _Now_."

"I'm not explaining shit," Brutes tries to break free again but there's nowhere for him to go. "You couldn't make the fucking effort when he was on your damn team but you suddenly care now?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Willy says loud enough to drown out the rest of them. Mitch is almost pissed enough to punch Brutes himself. Almost. Freddie's so furious that the lights are flickering and there's lightning flashing across his irises. The air crackles like scrunched up foil and JT puts a hand on Freddie's arm. Freddie breathes out and lets Brutes drop to the floor. Freddie's still glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"You owe us an explanation," JT says in his most Captain-ly tone. "Especially if something's happened between you and Brownie. If we've done something to hurt Brownie, we deserve to know-"

The sound that Brutes makes is barely recognizable as a laugh. He shakes his head, slumping back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. Mitch still wants to punch him but he tells Hyms and Willy what's happened so far instead. It's Zach who steps up. He still has his phone in his hand.

"Hey," he says carefully. "I can't get hold of Brownie and if Mitch says that blood on your shirt belongs to him, then it's definitely his. We need to know he's okay."

"He's fine," Brutes shrugs. "Well. As fine as he gets these days."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How do you not fucking know?" Brutes shakes his head. "You knew him for fucking years! How do none of you fucking know!?"

"Know what?" Willy demands.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Brutes repeats. "Someone had to say it. Someone from the team because Naz doesn't count."

"Thank you for what?" Zach prods him.

"For getting the pelt back," Brutes says. He winces immediately like he hadn't meant to say that. 

"But Brownie wasn't the one who got it back," Mitch says. He's too tired for this back-and-forth. His brain isn't working. "That was Naz. Well, Naz's friend."

There's magic in the air; Freddie's magic. Brutes clenches his teeth but it's useless. Freddie must really want this answer. He doesn't normally use his magic on people, Mitch is pretty sure. He never remembers it happening before. There's a hazy memory of Matts ducking out of a Face-time call in the post-season and saying something about Freddie being drunk and wanting to do something stupid. Mitch feels a chill run down his spine. Freddie's still staring at Brutes like there's no-one else in the room.

"Explain."

Brutes fights it but Mitch is having to physically bite his tongue to keep the excuses from tumbling out. It was his fault, he should have pushed more, he should-

"He's Naz's friend," Brutes spits, the words fighting their way past his teeth. "Connor's the mer. He was the one who got it back last time too."

"Bullshit," Willy says. He's furious, the tight seething anger that doesn't show on the cameras but sends him back to Sweden without a deal in hand. "He would have told us! He's our _friend_!"

"I don't think he could have actually," Brutes says. "He wasn't allowed. He didn't tell me. I guessed."

Willy opens his mouth but it's Freddie who nods, the magical charge in the air not dispersing so much as settling. There's still that strong smell of smoke sticking to the back of Mitch's throat.

"If he were bound...under a..." Freddie consults his phone. "A geas. That he couldn't tell anyone...it would make sense."

"He said I was the first human to figure it out," Brutes agrees. "Kinda sore about it, I think."

"Wait, so you believe him?" Mitch demands of Freddie who looks pained but nods. "You're seriously saying Brownie - _Brownie_?- is a Singer?"

"I've heard him sing," JT shakes his head. "I don't think singer is a good word for him."

"No, like a capital-S Singer," Mitch says. Fucking humans. "One of the Deep Singers? Our Brownie?"

It still feels like a joke, Mitch watches Brutes like he's going to grin any second and yet...he remembers Brownie, steady and tranquil, sure as the sea. Mitch doesn't have the English for what the Singers are. Every skinchanger knows the Singers. He was seven years old when his mom explained that humans didn't hear them even when they went diving. The Singers are the seas in ways that don't make sense when he tries to fit them into human words. They're old and powerful enough that their voices carry as far as the salt. 

"No," he says because there's a problem with Brutes's story. A big one. "Merfolk are immune to magic."

"Not immune," Brutes says. "Resistant. Connor didn't, like, go into detail but it makes sense that mer-magic works on merfolk."

He's right. Mitch isn't the only one who thinks about it. None of them manage a counter-argument and strangely, it's that lack of an argument that gets Brutes talking. Brutes is a pretty sociable guy and he likes to talk in a way that gets the guys around him talking back. It shouldn't be a surprise that he drew out what sounds like Brownie's whole life story. It still hurts to realize it. Mitch sees the same thing playing out on Zach and Willy's faces. It must be worse for them. They were Marlies with Brownie. They knew him forever.

Freddie doesn't say anything or react until Brutes starts talking about Connor's family 'taking him back'. His eyes open and the air crackles with magic again. Mitch is itching to have his other teeth. The way Brutes talks about it; it's Brownie's words, the faint lilt that makes Mitch miss him like he'd missed his mom his first week with his billet housing. Freddie must be feeling something like that because he looks _pissed_. 

Mitch is just plain terrified but there's a riptide of anger boiling away underneath. The thing is. The thing is that the Singers are like the seas. Inexorable and all-powerful. If they want Brownie, they should just be able to take him. He's their blood, resonant to the songs that can pull an air-breathing human into the depths with a smile on their face. Humans don't remember the Singers. They've forgotten in the centuries since Sirens called the heroes of Greece to their doom. Mitch grew up with the distant harmony of their voices all around him. The Singers don't rule the world because they don't want it, not because they can't take it. If they haven't just taken Brownie back, something has to be stopping them. The only thing Mitch can think of is magic but magic doesn't work on merfolk. Right?

"How is he holding them off?" Mitch says over whatever Willy was saying. 

"Uhhh," Brutes looks shifty. Freddie glares at him and his magic crackles in the air. "He's not!? Someone else is ...uh, helping? I mean, he-they don't know but they're helping."

"That makes no sense," Zach says. "Either someone's helping him, in which case we should be helping them or he's on his own in which case we need to help him."

Brutes is sweating and Freddie's still staring at him. Freddie's magic is starting to fill the room again. JT is looking lost. Willy is still seething and Zach is halfway into 'fix-it' mode because of course that's how Zach processes this. Mitch is hitting what must be his seventh wind, the lights starting to hurt his eyes and the jittery energy that comes before the crash. He's going to be fucking useless tomorrow for the media but he doesn't fucking care.

When the wave breaks, he's his mother's son more than he'll ever be his father's. Brownie is of the sea and he's Mitch's friend. If they can steal him back, Mitch is willing to take the hit to his reputation. 

"What aren't you telling us?"

Brutes swallows. "I can't."

"For fuck's sake," Willy barks. "We don't have time for this shit. You're telling us everything else!"

"That's all, like, magic and shit," Brutes says. "This is different!"

"Different how!?" Willy demands.

"This is like a betrayal of the bro code," Brutes shakes his head. "I can't do that!"

JT folds his arms and stares at Brutes. The circles under his eyes are dark and he looks like he's one small step away from shouting in Brutes's face. It's so ridiculous that Mitch giggles. Freddie doesn't look amused. Brutes insists that he can't say anything and actually sticks to it. Mitch ends up sitting on the bed with Zach still tapping away at his phone beside him while Freddie and Willy basically browbeat Brutes and JT tries to play referee. Mitch is loopy with exhaustion and he can't taste anything but Brownie's blood and Freddie's magic. If JT doesn't remember how things are, well, Mitch isn't going to be the one who reminds him.

Really though, JT was _in the locker room_ with Freddie and Brownie for a whole year. Mitch is, like, ninety percent certain that Mo had the conversation with him too. It was one of the things that everyone knew and no-one talked about. Well, Brownie talked about Freddie. Nothing explicit, of course. Nothing that couldn't be explained away by admiration or talking up a team-mate. But he'd talked about Freddie like...like Mitch's mom had talked about his dad back when she'd trusted him to return her pelt. Mitch never said anything because there was always hockey to play, things that needed to be done and there would be time later.

Freddie was different. Mitch never knew Freddie as well as he knew Brownie but, c'mon, he had eyes. Freddie always watched Brownie. Still nothing that the media could see or anyone might catch on Insta. Just little things, like Freddie always sitting where he could see Brownie or Mitch catching Freddie pulling the blanket up on his way back from the tiny plane bathroom or Freddie making space for Brownie on the sofa during a Mario Kart marathon. Freddie always looked at Brownie differently. That's it. That's all Mitch can say.

He knows Freddie's missed Brownie and really, he's not surprised Freddie didn't keep calling him. It's hard to keep in touch with people who aren't part of the same bubble. You put it off and then there's travel and training and sleeping every second you can find. Matts said once that Freddie was bad at phone-calls because all that intensity that Freddie can't quite control makes him sound weird. Freddie overthinks things too. Brownie used to be able to get him out of his head but Brownie wasn't there.

"What are we going to do?" Mitch asks Zach. Hyms shrugs. 

"We need to know who was casting magic on Brownie," he says. "Or why it worked at least."

He's looking at Brutes kinda intensely and Mitch follows his gaze. Brutes looks awful but he's still stubbornly refusing to admit anything else. Mitch looks back at Zach who is looking at Freddie with a strange expression.

"What?"

"How many wizards do you think Brownie knows?" Zach says thoughtfully. "Like, outside of his family?"

"Uh," Mitch starts to say that he doesn't know but that's not true, is it? He knows most of Brownie's friends. Most of them are hockey players. There's a few non-hockey friends but Mitch knows them a little too. There's an accountant, a personal trainer and a couple of them who are really into yoga. All human. He's never smelled any magic on Brownie that wasn't Freddie's. He says as much to Zach.

"Well, that's interesting," is all Zach says but he's smiling a little like he does when the other team's talking shit. He stands up and Willy breaks off to look over at him. JT is looking a thousand percent done with the whole argument and Freddie's breathing deep, hands curling into fists and releasing. Zach doesn't look away from Brutes who's looking hunted. "Why does Freddie's magic work on Brownie?"

Brutes freezes. Freddie's head snaps around. Brutes starts stammering some kind of denial but Zach just blinks at him. Brutes licks his lips as Freddie turns back to him. 

"It couldn't be," Freddie argues. "I never-I never cast any spell on Connor. I...it wouldn't have been right."

There's a whole story there that Mitch isn't getting. Freddie's voice is tight and he's hunched his shoulders. Mitch looks at Brutes and tastes the smoke of Freddie's magic. He thinks it might burn if Freddie decided to use it against him. There's too much power in Freddie's voice for his magic to be just smoke and illusion. Fire is for desire and domination. That's why an _Ifriiti_ can pluck your deepest desire from your breath and leave you blissfully happy with a handful of ash in the end. He remembers Naz saying that on one of the team nights that had lasted into the next morning.

Earth for endurance and renewal, Air for freedom and escape, Fire for desire and domination and Water, Water for mystery and magic. Mitch learned that from his mother's nursery rhymes. He knows now that is a gross simplification. Water magic is chaos and change. Most of the shapeshifters owe at least a passing debt to the water; Selkies, Swanmares, Orcakin and the shallow-folk. Humans don't have water magic. He thought Freddie was Earth but Fire makes a lot of sense. 

"You did though," Zach says kindly. "I mean, I'm assuming you didn't exclude him from the protection spells?"

"No, of course not!" Freddie snaps.

"You didn't break it either," Brutes says slowly. 

"I don't," Freddie says. "Not usually. I broke it for Babs, for Getzlaf and Perry back when I was traded but normally...?"

"Can never have too much protection," Willy agrees. "How long does it take to wear off?"

"I never asked," Freddie stares into the middle distance. "If I still saw them, I would just renew it. I never worried about how long it would take."

The silence hangs in the air. Brutes clears his throat and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. "A year and a day."

"What?" Willy demands.

"A year and a day," Brutes repeats a little louder. He's still staring at the ceiling, leaning back into the wall like he doesn't have the strength to stand. "Come on, dude. You should know this. You all should."

"We're hockey players," Mitch huffs. "Like, Zach might have done some magic-studying and Freddie has to have studied it a bit but the rest of us don't have to think about it."

"That's not what he means," Willy says with a strange look on his face. "Is it, Tys?"

"No," Brutes says with a big sigh.

"What does he mean then?" Mitch scowls at Willy.

"A year and a day," Willy repeats. "That's straight out of a fucking fairytale."

Brutes winces a little but Zach's eyebrows shoot up. He gapes at Brutes with a dawning look of realization. "That's it. That has to be it. It is that, isn't it?"

Brutes bites his lips and doesn't look away from the ceiling. He looks a little sick actually. Mitch squashes the fleeting sense of pity. They need to know how they're going to save Brownie and Brutes has dragged this out forever already. Mitch turns to Zach. "You wanna fill the rest of us in?"

"It's like the rules, isn't it?" Zach presses. It's a rhetorical question. He's already turning to the rest of them. "It's like the defining characteristic of fairy tales. It makes sense that they'd capture that. Like, folk wisdom or stuff."

"Hyms..." Mitch whines.

"Love," Zach says. "True love and happily ever after."

"That doesn't work like that," Freddie says gruffly.

"Yeah, I think it does," Zach says. "No wonder they don't come out of the sea very often! If Brownie being in love with you makes him vulnerable to your magic, then it makes so much sense that they don't ever mix with humans."

"Brownie's in love with me?" Freddie sounds like he's taken a Weber slapshot to the mask.

"Well, yeah," Mitch only feels a little guilty. "Seriously, this isn't news."

"It fucking is to me!"

"This isn't some Little Mermaid shit, is it?" Willy says suddenly, looking a little sick. Freddie goes white. They all turn to Brutes who takes a minute to notice.

"What do you mean?" he asks. "Like, what's the Little Mermaid shit? Like a sea-witch?"

"Fuck fucking Disney," Freddie spits. 

"The real story's a lot longer and I'll let Freddie tell it sometime," Willy says. "It's Danish so he'd know it better but it's basically a tragedy. She ends up dying because she wasn't meant to live out of the water."

"I don't think so?" Brutes says. "Connor didn't talk about it like that. He said that his family would be upset and, like, keep him under for a hundred years or something but he didn't seem to think it was dangerous. I mean, you get that we talked for like three hours and that's it, right? Like, he was _your_ boy?"

JT draws himself up with visible offence. He hadn't been as tight with Brownie as the rest of them but Brownie'd played on his wing a couple of times. Hyms looks guilty. Willy looks pissed. Freddie still looks pole-axed but his gaze is sharpening and the smell of smoke gets thicker. The whole room feels hotter and Mitch thinks _Definitely Fire._

"So he's not in danger right now," JT says slowly, like he's trying to be reasonable. "That means we have some time."

"Uh, actually?" Brutes says, gesturing at his shirt. "They were kinda upset that he went after Mitch's pelt? Like that's where the blood was from. They, uh, they kinda chewed him up."

"For saving my pelt?" Mitch feels a chill run down his spine.

"Mostly for the coming back to land," Brutes says. "I think? He's very good at talking without actually giving anything away. He would be a kickass spy, I think. He had bites everywhere. Like, all over his arms and his chest."

Freddie's eyes narrow.

"I mean, probably other places too but I didn't exactly look." Brutes talks a little faster, glancing nervously at Freddie every other word. "I am entirely guessing on that but he was moving like he was hurting for sure."

"I'll see if Naz is awake," JT says pre-emptively. "Brownie's safe on land so he's safe right now. We have media in, what? Four hours? We need to do that first."

"Fine," Zach agrees and Willy flicks his hair back before nodding.

"Ask Naz now," Freddie says. It doesn't sound like a question. He and JT stare at each other for a few seconds before JT looks down at his phone. He taps out a message and they all just stare at the phone until it buzzes with a notification.

"Naz says he was talking to him and Brownie said he was going home," JT says. 

"Did you tell him we know Brownie's a merfolk?" Zach asks at the same time that Willy demands "Land-home or back to the sea?"

JT frowns and taps at his phone again. It takes several minutes for the answer to come this time. Mitch drums his fingers against his leg. His hands are starting to shake. His eyelids keep sticking to each other when he blinks. He ignores it all. He wants to hear that Brownie's okay. Then he's going to crash for a couple of hours. He might wake Matts, Mitch thinks. Freddie doesn't look like he should be on his own right now. He just needs to hear that Brownie's okay first. Zach is picking at his nails while Willy paces. Brutes is still leaning back against the wall. The phone buzzes. JT's frown deepens. He starts typing, thumb flying across the keypad.

"What?" Mitch is peevish.

"He's surprised," JT says tersely. "And he was lying."

Freddie looks murderous. "He was what!?"

"Lying," JT repeats. "He was on the phone to Brownie, he says, until Brownie said something about hearing one of his cousins nearby and hung up. He says Brownie didn't pick up again."

Freddie turns to snatch up his own phone. He pulls up Brownie's contact info and sends a message. Mitch can't read it from where he's sitting but this is Freddie. No way Brownie doesn't answer. He feels the sadness of that but it's distant. Mostly, he thinks how fucking stupid it is that they're both in love and too dumb to say anything. Brownie, he gets. Brownie's always been a little nervous that people won't like him. Freddie's not good at showing emotions other than rage in the room. Mitch wouldn't have said anything to Freddie either.

He only gets to judge now because he's seen what Freddie is like without Brownie and how Freddie always seems to be looking for the guy who isn't there in the locker room or the lounge. If Mitch was hiding his heritage, he thinks he wouldn't have risked it and how much more did Brownie have to hide? He was losing everything. Mitch can't blame him for not wanting to have his heart broken for real like that. 

Freddie glares down at his phone as the minutes tick past. At the five minute mark, Freddie hits 'call' and there isn't even a ring. Just a pause and then Brownie's cheerful voice-mail greeting. Freddie hangs up. Calls again. Straight to voicemail. Brownie could be asleep, Mitch thinks, but his phone would ring. Freddie tries again. Brownie's tinny voice, still the old message that he'd recorded on the team plane during their first season. Mitch recognizes it.

Freddie hangs up and throws his phone on the bed. He spits something that might be English or German or Klingon. Mitch edges a little closer to the door. Freddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he pulls out a ragged looking sketchpad and a sharpie. There's a jumbly mess of lines on most of the pages. Freddie stops on one page. Mitch can't even tell what was the original pattern with the ink bled all over the page. 

Freddie pops the cap off the pen and draws a sequence of sharp lines that disappear into the ink already on the page as fast as they dry out. Freddie presses his knuckles against the page and whispers something. It's kinda like Danish, Mitch thinks but different. It burns in his ears and he doesn't have to ask to know that Freddie's casting some sort of spell. He sees the lightning flash through Freddie's irises and he stays still for a long moment. Then he blinks, focusing on the rest of the room.

"He's in trouble," Freddie says grimly. "The spell's been weakened. I've refreshed it but it's...it might not have worked. I can't find him."

"You think they took him?" Zach's tensed up like he's waiting for a face-off when they're one goal down and there's less than a minute on the clock. 

"There's no-one with human blood in Toronto who could blunt my magic," Freddie says like it's just a fact. Mitch believes him. "He has to be in the water."

"They're not going to let him go this time," Brutes chimes in. "The way he was talking about it? No way they let him go again."

"Then I'm going to make them give him back," Freddie says in the flat dead tone that gets him as much space as the locker room can give him. Again, Mitch believes him.

"We can't just-" JT starts. Mitch forgets how human his team is sometimes.

"I'm going with Freddie," Mitch says. He feels the ache of stiff muscles, the haze of exhaustion setting in but he doesn't have a choice. "I have to."

"You have to stay here," JT argues. "The team needs you to stay."

"The team's done for the season," Mitch says. "Brownie saved my pelt. Twice. He gave it back to me right away."

JT's expression stays blank and Mitch sighs.

"He could have kept it," Mitch says. "Most people would have. That's what the stories are about. That's what they _mean_. That's why I didn't want someone I didn't know holding onto it. I was a dumbass to trust the trainers."

There's more that he doesn't say. JT doesn't know about his mom. He doesn't know Mitch's dad. Mitch rubs at the grit in his eyes and tries to think how to put it. Humans forget so fast, he thinks even as Zach presses his shoulder against Mitch's. Freddie is just watching silently, eyes still hard but he doesn't look lost the way JT does. Brutes has his arms folded across his chest. Willy looks angry, lips pressed together.

"He gave it back," Mitch repeats. "Twice. He never even told me that it was him. He never held it over my head. He gave it _back_."

"He said there was no debt," Brutes mentions. "Said he was happy to help."

"Of course he did," Mitch snorts. "That's so fucking Brownie. It's not about debt. Not...like, not formal or shit. If he saved me, I gotta try and save him. It's simple as that."

JT pinches the bridge of his nose but he doesn't have an answer to that. Willy looks at Zach then pushes himself off the wall.

"I've still got your pelt," he tells Mitch. "Let me grab it while Freddie works out how he's getting us outta the bubble without the whole damn city knowing about it."

Freddie grunts and flips to a blank page. The lines he scores across the page are sharp and the pattern that takes shape _burns_.

Freddie's smile is all sharp teeth.

"Be quick."


	3. Chapter 3

Tyson could have gone back to his room.

Tyson _should_ have gone back to his room. He could be in his bed right now, sleeping off another disappointing season. It's not his business. He's not even a Leaf anymore. Not really.

They didn't even make it across the street. Freddie got them past the guards by sketching a glowing shape in the air that made Tyson's eyes hurt like someone turned his optic nerves into corkscrews. He's still seeing double when he stumbles after Freddie into the too-bright pre-dawn. JT hasn't come. Willy's following them down with Marns' pelt.

Marns is quiet and focused in a way that Tyson's used to seeing on the PK. Zach's mostly cool, if you don't notice the whites of his eyes showing all the way around. Freddie barely seems to notice them. Or anything.

"Am I the only one who thinks this looks, like, _right_ out of a horror movie?" Tyson meant to whisper but it comes out way too loud for the empty streets.

"Sh," Zach waves a hand at him.

"Seriously," Tyson hisses. Both of them look at Freddie who looks like he's listening for something. Tyson's not sure what he's listening for but Tyson doesn't hear anything. "Shouldn't there be some people around? I mean, anybody?"

"It's early," Zach says but he sounds uncertain.

"Where'd all the fog come from?" Tyson demands. "Where's all the traffic?!"

"I don't know," Zach looks around uneasily.

"It's magic," Marns says from behind them, sounding exasperated. "How can you not hear that?"

"Hear wha-?" Tyson's teeth click together and he feels them vibrating in place. There's something thrumming in the air. It's too low to be sound but it shivers through the fog that's getting thicker by the second. "That's a sound?"

"Magic," Marns says again.

Freddie stops and looks around. The fog is getting thicker and the low thrumming is getting more intense by the second. Tyson looks over his shoulder and he can barely make out the hotel behind them. He hears Willy cursing before he comes hurrying through the fog with the bag slung over his shoulder. Willy knocks into Tyson who knocks into Zach who slams into Freddie with about as much effect as if he'd tried to move Scotiabank Arena. Freddie looks around at them.

"This is magic," Willy says rather than asks.

"Yeah," Marns looks around. "But I don't think it's intentional."

"What?"

"This ...it's more like a side-effect," Marns says, looking at Freddie who nods.

"This is not aimed at us," he says. "I can't find any intent. I can't dispel it either. It's Water magic. Strong magic."

"Well, that's a good sign, right?" Tyson ventures. Everyone turns to look at him. "I mean, they're doing something big if this is just the side-effects, right?"

"Yeah," Zach nods.

"So they might not have Brownie yet," Marns nods and holds out his hand for the bag. "They've gotta be in the water though."

"We're miles away from the sea," Tyson points out.

"Doesn't matter," Marns says. "The Singers don't need the sea. They just need water."

"Then we don't have time to waste," Freddie says, already turning away. Tyson grabs for the back of his hoodie because the fog is getting thicker and Tyson's lost already. He doesn't know this part of Toronto well enough to have any idea where he's going. He's hoping Freddie does but either way he's not sure he'll ever find them again if they get seperated.

"We're not far from the waterfront," Marns says. "Shouldn't be more than a couple of minutes."

"Well, at least we aren't going to have to worry about drawing any attention," Willy grumbles. "Even if there is anyone around, they'll never see us in this."

"Always looking on the bright side," Zach tries to smile but he still looks grim underneath it.

Freddie pushes through the fog and the rest of them trail along behind him. The air is wet. Tyson can feel the water dripping from his hair. His t-shirt's clinging to his back and it's starting to get uncomfortable. The tension running through their little group feels a lot like the desperate last few minutes of the last game where they just wanted _something_ to go their way. Tyson tries not to think about how badly that ended up.

Positive thoughts, he thinks. He's not sure that positive thoughts will help but he's not sure they won't so he tries to keep as positive as possible. The fog is so thick now that he can't even see Freddie who is two literal feet in front of him. He only knows Freddie's there because he still has hold of the back of Freddie's hoodie.

The sound vibrating through the air around them gets louder and stronger. He can hear it now, not just feel it. Tyson feels his skull vibrating and he doesn't think he's the only one. Zach's squinting around and Willy is muttering darkly. Marns has both arms wrapped around the bag with his pelt in it and he keeps rolling his shoulders like he's staring down the opposition's penalty-killers and getting ready to hit the ice.

"Does the air smell like the seaside to anyone else?" Willy asks.

Tyson sniffs and there's definitely a hint of salt in the air. Marns hisses through his teeth.

"We're close," he says. "We might not have a lot of time."

Freddie growls and pushes forward. Tyson's grip nearly slips and he trips, blundering into Freddie's back.

"Shit! Sorry!" Tyson freezes when the sound around them goes dead silent. "Did they hear us?"

Zach's opening his mouth when the sound starts up again. It's _deafening_ ; crashing into them like a tidal wave. Tyson gets his hands over his ears for all the good it does. Scotiabank at full volume isn't even a whisper against this thunderous roar. Willy crashes into him, mouth moving and even Freddie staggers a little to the side. He gets a hand up and there's a second...just a second where Tyson hears something else. It feels like the heartbeat pause before a wave goes out again. 

It feels like Connor, an echo of his laughter.

Freddie takes full advantage of the lull, sketching a shape in the air in burning lines and rasping something that makes the sound less all-consuming. The sound drops off after a few seconds, leaving them with ringing ears as they pant for air. Tyson's stomach sinks like a rock. He's got a bad, bad feeling about this.

"-fuck was that!?" Willy yells but it sounds distant.

Freddie doesn't even look around, he's staring at the swirling fog that's starting to darken in front of them. More like smoke than fog, Tyson thinks, but the air's still so wet he can barely breathe it.

"Brace yourselves," Marns says uneasily. He's fumbling for the zipper on the bag that has his pelt and his hands are shaking. Tyson sees him grab fistfuls of shining fur and blinks.

"Hey, the fog's easing off-" he's halfway through wondering if that's a bad sign when he hears the rush of water. Actual water. Lots and lots of actual water. Tyson turns around just in time to see the wave cresting a good ten feet over Freddie's head. He opens his mouth to scream.

The wave hits them.

* * *

Mitch barely gets his pelt around him in time to gulp in a lungful of air before they're underwater. The water is bitterly cold even through fur and the natural layer of blubber he has in his form. It tastes of ice and stale air; deep water. Deeper than Mitch has ever ventured and he thrashes around, trying to get his bearings. There's a Song in the water, loud enough that he feels it in his whiskers. It's more familiar in the water but it's barely louder than it would be if he'd gone paddling on the beach. The only light is coming from just to his left.

Freddie's got some sort of spell up around the rest of the guys, some kind of bubble that's keeping them safe. Mitch dives to them and pops his head through the edge of the bubble. The air is humid but good. Freddie's concentrating fiercely and Mitch can smell smoke and lightning before he ducks back out. 

There's no light outside that little bubble. The water is so dark it's almost black and Mitch swims as far as he dares in every direction. He doesn't see the bottom and he doesn't see any light in any direction. The water is salty and the way the currents move, it feels like the deepest depth of the sea. It's not any sea that Mitch knows and he's got no sense of where they are. He can't taste any scents in the water. Nothing but the cold salty taste of the sea. What does a Singer smell like anyway? He thinks that he can smell Brownie's blood in the water but it's so faint, he can't be sure. It might just be wishful thinking.

He's trying to remember everything he was told about Singers. It's not much. They don't bother with air-breathers, he knows. His mom told him about a great-great granduncle who'd gone chasing after the Singers and never came back. Mitch had been curious about him when he was a kid and nobody had ever sounded surprised. His grandma had told him that "Jason was always too confident. He thought he could charm them. He thought he was a charmer, that one. The Singers don't care about people, my boy, and that's the way we like it. If you keep pestering them, they will pay attention to you and that never ends well."

Mitch isn't here for the Singers. He's here for Brownie.

He's here for Freddie too. The last year has really opened his eyes to how things can change. Freddie and Brownie might have been able to work things out if they'd had time but they're never going to get that chance if the Singers take Brownie down to the Deep. Brownie deserves that chance. Brownie deserves to keep playing hockey until _he_ decides he's done. Brownie got his pelt back for him twice and never said anything. Mitch isn't going to just let him be taken.

Mitch has to loop back to steal another gulp of air. Hyms and Willy are peering out through the edges of the bubble. Brutes is poking the edges of the bubble and Freddie's starting to look strained but grimly determined all the same. 

"Is there anyone out there?" Zach asks and Mitch shakes his head.

"Any idea where we are?" Willy asks and Mitch shakes his head again.

"That's not worrying or anything," Brutes says. "I mean, it's obvious we're not in Toronto anymore, Toto."

"Who are you calling a dog?" Willy demands and Mitch ducks away from the bubble again. The Song in the water is starting to get louder. Mitch has to fight the sudden urge to break for the surface. The Song isn't coming from anywhere in particular, Mitch doesn't think. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all.

He almost misses the first flicker of light, thinks it's an after-image from looking at the bubble.

Then it moves.

Mitch might actually pull a muscle, he twists around so fast. It's a brief flicker, like a little red lightning bolt. Then he sees it again as he turns. Or...no. He sees _another_ one.

He can't see any details; just a flash and another and another. They're all around the bubble. He can't even keep count. Mitch backs up, feeling like he's blundered into a Great White feeding frenzy. 

Mitch remembers something he'd seen on one of the documentary channels, late at night in some hotel, where they'd been talking about deep-sea fish who had red bioluminescence. There'd been a researcher with wild hair and big Mrs-Frizzle-style glasses who had talked about how red light has the shortest wavelength so most creatures in the deep can't even see it.

"It's a predatory adaptation," she'd said. "I love it but it sounds like something out of a horror movie. All these little fish thinking that they're invisible in the dark and all the time, there's these predators who can see every move they're making."

...fuck.

The lights are getting closer. The way they're moving now makes Mitch think of an orca pod getting into place to launch an attack. Closing in around the target. Every instinct he has is screaming at him to run as fast and as far as he can go. Mitch turns a tight circle, trying to make out details as his lungs start to ache. He can't hold his breath much longer. He breaks for the bubble again and this time, the lights move with him. 

There's a weird undulating kind of movement from everywhere and Mitch gets hit hard enough that he sees stars. The water pressure bends him in half. The air gets driven out of his lungs and Mitch has the crystal clear thought that he's going to drown right here. He can't even see the fucking bubble...

Something catches him by the scruff of the neck, as easy as lifting a kitten. There's a brief stinging pain in the back of his neck.

Mitch inhales sharply, not able to resist...and his lungs fill with air. The Song fractures. There's different voices suddenly, not one driving wall of sound. Whoever or _whatever_ has him by the neck drives through the water, faster than a striking shark and Mitch gets dumped into the bubble, hard enough to bowl someone over.

Mitch rolls over, shaking off Zach's concerned hands, and barks at the lights still circling the bubble.

"What the fuck was that?" Willy's voice is shrill.

"I think we've found the merfolk," Zach's voice wavers just a little. He pats Mitch's shoulders, hand brushing where he felt the pain and Mitch flinches. "What's wrong? Did that hurt?"

It doesn't. It tingles but Mitch is distracted by the scent that's still clinging to his fur. _Brownie_. Mitch waddles forward and nudges his nose against Freddie's leg. Freddie doesn't look away from the lights outside. There's a lot of them. They're not flashing any more. There's enough light outside that he can see movement. There's a lot of movement.

"How many do you think there are out there?" Brutes wonders.

"A lot," Freddie says.

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know," Freddie swallows. Mitch hears his throat click.

Mitch leans against Freddie's leg. Freddie's super tense, trying to track everything that's moving around them. He barks and Freddie hushes him. The light in the bubble is dimming. It's like the dark is seeping through Freddie's magic. Mitch rolls his shoulders, loosening his pelt and there's a second where he almost pulls it tight again but he pushes through the feeling. He still has to brace against the feeling of dislocation and loss that comes with shedding his pelt but he grits his teeth.

"What happened out there?" Willy demands almost as soon Mitch is back in human form.

"Brownie," Mitch gasps through the shivering feeling of _wrongness_. 

"Is that a good thing?" Brutes wonders.

"He saved me so yeah, I think so," Mitch snaps. "Something's changed. They're not singing together. It's like someone's changing the Song."

"What do you mean?" Freddie

"They're not—" Mitch shakes his head. "I think Brownie's doing something."

"Good something or bad something?" Brutes asks, eying the flickering lights nervously.

"I don't know," Mitch gets cut off when the lights start flickering faster. He can kind of make out shapes moving now but he can't guess how many of them there are.

"The one that dragged you over was blue as well as red. Was that Brownie?" Zach wonders and there's a ripple of movement just beyond the bubble. The Song picks up in volume. It's less like whale song now, more like a human chorus with inhuman voices battling to drown each other out. One of the clusters of red light lunges for them and even Freddie jerks back a step. The lights don't make it all the way; something crashes into them or it with enough force that the bubble shudders.

Freddie starts chanting but his voice is shot and the lines he draws don't glow as bright. The bubble wobbles and shrinks in by at least six inches all around. Freddie gets a hand up to stop it contracting all the way. Mitch thinks it's going to pop and they'll all drown.

Freddie's magic smells of smoke and ash now, not flames and lightning like it did outside the water. 

"Uh, Freddie? Buddy?" Brutes sounds like he's freaking out.

"It's the Water," Mitch realizes. "He can't keep this up."

"What can we do?" Zach sounds determined.

"I don't think we can do anything," Mitch shakes his head. 

Freddie repeats the chant but this time, Mitch _feels_ the Song shift. There's a thread of sound, so deep that it feels like it's echoing up from the very bottom of the ocean. The rest of the Song splinters into higher-pitched discord and Mitch can actually _see_ the bubble steady and solidify as the bass-note Song picks up the tempo and tone of Freddie's words. Freddie looks as startled as the rest of them.

"Holy shit, look at that!" Willy's looking down through the bottom of the bubble.

There's another flash of light, blue and red this time, rising out of the dark and the red lights retreat as the blue-red lights rise, shining bright by the second. He hears one of the boys cursing but he can't tear his eyes away. 

The light from the bubble is bright enough that Mitch can actually see them. He's never seen a Singer before. Well, he's seen Brownie but Brownie never looked like anything but a normal human up above. The Singers on the edges of the bubble's light look nothing like the kind of mermaids Mitch has grown up with. They're much bigger than he expects and a whole lot less human, coiling together and weaving around each other. The red light is coming from a weird pattern that criss-crosses the rough hide that covers most of their bodies. It's definitely bioluminesce, he thinks. Then he can't see them as the rising Singer circles the bubble.

Even knowing who it has to be, Mitch doesn't recognize Brownie at first. He's noticeably bigger than the others, moving faster and there's two patterns of light running like glowing spiderwebs along his blue-ish-grey hide. His human half is more like a quarter of his total length. His non-human half is like a nightmare mish-mash of a shark and a sea-serpent with sharp tapered fins poking out. Mitch only realizes it is Brownie for sure when he turns his head to look at them. His face is mostly the same; washed out by the water and the dim light but it's definitely Brownie. His eyes are shark-black from rim to rim and he has deep gill-slits that flutter along his neck.

He dips sharp-tipped fingers into the bubble, touching Freddie's hand. Freddie jerks, the frazzled smoke scent replaced with the smell of flames and a brewing thunderstorm. Brownie looks down at him and the bubble hardens into something like glass.

Another of the Singers takes advantage of Brownie's distraction to charge at him from behind. Just before they hit him, Brownie _moves_. His light patterns flare up blindingly bright. The other Singer's shine almost as bright and they swipe at Brownie who dodges.

"Holy fucking fuck," Brutes whispers.

Brownie slams into the other Singer, both of them coiling and spinning around each other. It's hard to see any details because of the blazing lights. The water around them goes dark with blood which doesn't help. Brownie's pounding the other guy, hard enough that the bubble shakes around them. 

"Get 'im!" Brutes hollers.

"Kick his ass, Brownie!" Willy shouts.

"You got this!" Mitch yells.

"Brownie's beating the shit out of him," Zach says, half-admiring.

He's not wrong. Brownie's bigger and faster and the other guy doesn't seem to even be slowing him down. The divided Song is making the air shiver in the bubble. Mitch can feel the repeated impact of big bodies crashing together. Brownie tears a chunk out of his opponent with wickedly sharp fingers and the other guy's lights go dark fast that Mitch thinks they've gone out for a second. The Song goes quiet, only Brownie's challenging bass still ringing out.

"Fuck, did he kill that guy?" Brutes asks.

"No," Zach says doubtfully. "I think he beat them though."

"Yeah," Mitch watches as Brownie curls away to circle the bubble. The other guy dives and some of the other Singers follow, their lights dimming as they go. "I think he did."

Brownie isn't looking at them, still watching the remaining Singers. He's long enough to completely circle the bubble and he lets one hand trail close enough that the bubble ripples under the needle pointed tips of his fingers. Mitch's heart leaps in his chest but the bubble feels more solid. Freddie's smiling, the private little quirk of his lips that means he's happy. 

The other Song swells up, more plaintive than before and Brownie's Song dips and picks up the echo of Freddie's chanting. Freddie hums along and Brownie's lights brighten a fraction. The other Singers falter again and the Song seems softer when they pick it up again.

"What is that?" Zach asks in a hushed voice.

"I told you," Mitch rolls his eyes. "They're Singers. This is how they talk and, like, do magic."

"It's very powerful," Freddie agrees without looking away from where Brownie's looping around them. "I couldn't even imagine such power if I hadn't seen it for myself."

"I wasn't expecting Brownie to be such a boss," Mitch presses his hand against the bubble as Brownie passes by again. 

"I don't think Brownie was expecting that," Zach looks almost as fond as Freddie does. "Ottawa's turning him into a goon."

The two Songs are starting to settle into harmony with each other and Brownie comes to a halt, coiled up in front of their bubble. Mitch feels that mental dislocation again; the set of Brownie's shoulders makes him think of Brownie listening to Coach lecturing him but Brownie's all coiled sea-monster below the waist. One of the other Singers approaches and Brownie's lights glow a little brighter as he moves to intercept.

They coil around each other but this doesn't look like a fight. The other Singer's lights are about as bright as Brownie's and they loop around each other as the two Songs slowly bleed together. Mitch can't make out any details of the human part of the other Singer but they do reach out to touch Brownie's face and there's a second of silence. Then the Song surges up around them and Brownie curves away from the Singers to swim straight at them.

"Uh," Zach takes a step back.

"What's he doing?" Willy ducks a little behind Freddie.

Mitch doesn't get a chance to say anything because Brownie hits the bubble and then... It's like being caught in a riptide. The whole world becomes the rush of speed and there's nothing Mitch can do but hang on. He hears Zach whoop and either Brutes or Willy screams.

Freddie just laughs.

The air is fresh and sharp when they burst out of the water and Mitch can't get his feet under him in time to stop from tumbling over. It's wood under his hands, a boardwalk, and the sun's shining. That early morning brilliance that promises a glorious day ahead. Mitch sits up and looks around at the sound of Brownie laughing.

Brownie's still mostly in the water, elbows braced on the wooden planks as he laughs at them all sprawled around. There's more pink in his skin under the sunlight and his eyes look human but his gills still gape along his neck and his fingers taper down to claws. Mitch grins at him. Zach is sitting on his butt with Willy draped across his lap and Brutes is picking himself up while muttering under his breath. Freddie's on his knees, looking remarkably unruffled, staring at Brownie.

"Nice reflexes there, boys," Brownie chirps.

"Oh, fuck you," Mitch says, tugging his pelt up so he can dust it off.

Brownie's grin is just the same as it always was. Well, aside from the too-sharp teeth. His eyes track to Brutes and his smile fades as he looks around like he's actually taking in who's there. He keeps looking back at Brutes and, well, Brownie's always worn his feelings on his face. Brutes looks up in time to see the way Brownie's eyes go wide.

"I didn't mean to!"

Brownie's hands flatten on the boards but Freddie moves before Brownie can actually push away. He catches Brownie's wrist and Brownie freezes in place. His gills are fluttering and the flesh inside blushes red. 

"No," Freddie says firmly.

Brownie...makes a sound. It's not singing but it's Singing, filling the air with a hum that doesn't seem to be coming from his mouth. It sounds panicky. Mitch thinks if he could pull away without hurting Freddie, Brownie would already be gone. Brownie's skin is paling and the light under his skin is starting to glow. 

"Stop," Freddie sounds like he's talking to a rookie mid-freakout. Brownie doesn't look like he's calming down and Freddie scoots forward to kiss him.

Brownie's Song kind of hiccups and he blinks a couple of times really fast. His skin stops going that grey-blue shade and his gills flare all the way open. Freddie just keeps kissing him until Brownie's Song goes quiet. Willy wolf-whistles and Zach smacks him in the arm.

Brownie's blushing a very human shade of pink when Freddie finally pulls back. Mitch is probably the only one close enough to hear him murmur "I know we need to talk but I need you here to have that talk. No running away."

"I'm not running," Brownie lies. "This...probably isn't the best place."

"Yeah," Zach pushes Willy out of his lap. "This is a public park and we need to be back for the media soon."

"Not to mention the actual honest-to-God merfolk," Brutes chimes in. "Can you change back?"

"Of course I can," Brownie's blushing again. "There's just one problem."

"What kind of problem?" Mitch glares back at the water. "Are they going to try and grab you again?!"

"No," Brownie looks over his shoulder. "They can wait. It's easier than trying to force me."

"So, what's the problem?"

Brownie sinks a little lower in the water. "Look, not all of us need a pelt to change, alright!"

"Okay...?"

"So you're more like, what, a werewolf?" Brutes asks, looking fascinated in a way that makes Freddie bristle.

"Oh!" Mitch figures it out. "You don't have clothes!"

"Nope," Brownie looks around nervously. "They wouldn't have survived the shift even if they hadn't been ripped up."

"Why were they ripp—?" Zach starts and Brownie shifts his weight to his free elbow so he can raise his hand and his fingers curl into long, razor-sharp claws. "Oh. Right."

"You can't stay in the water," Mitch insists. He doesn't trust the other Singers. They didn't go to all that trouble just to gift wrap Brownie for them a second time. He doesn't think they'll be able to pull off another rescue. He doesn't think they did a lot of rescuing this time around but he's still not ready to let Brownie just swim off.

"I don't have a choice!"

"Just get out of the water," Freddie begs and Brownie looks at him, then sighs.

"Move back a bit," he says, as he tugs his hand free to grasp the edge of the boardwalk. Freddie backs up a single step, never looking away. Brownie ducks into the water and erupts back up. There's a confusion of water and skin and then, just Brownie stumbling on the uneven planks. Freddie's there to catch him and Mitch averts his eyes for a second.

Brownie's mostly human when Freddie pulls his hoodie over his head but the lines of his gills are still dark red lines down the line of his neck and Mitch can see the spider web pattern where his lights must be like veins under his skin. Freddie's hoody is big enough that it ends up hanging to mid-thigh. Not the most respectable outfit but he won't get done for public indecency. He looks like a kid wearing his big brother's sweater. Freddie pulls him in for another kiss and Mitch looks away, looking around at the park. He thinks they're pretty close to Scotiabank, actually. Willy's huffing as he helps Zach get to his feet.

"How are we going to get back to the hotel?"

"Management is going to kill us." Brutes says gloomily.

"I can help," Brownie offers.

"How?" Zach's peering around.

Brownie hums and Mitch shivers at the way his Song fills the air like oil spreading over water. There's mist immediately. The light changes, rippling like it's coming through water. Brownie leans his head against Freddie's chest and the mist swirls around them. Then the air changes to dry air-con rather than fresh air. Brownie's hum fades into silence and the mist drains away to reveal the hotel lobby, just like they left it.

"I can't get you any farther," Brownie says, sounding kinda rough. "This is the only part I saw."

"This is incredible," Willy says fervently. The clock on the wall reads 06:36, plenty of time to get ready for the press.

"What about you?" Zach's looking at Brownie who looks exhausted, still leaning into Freddie who doesn't seem in any hurry to let go of him. "Are you going to be able to get back to Ottawa?"

"Uh..."

"Do you have anywhere in Ottawa to get back to?" Brutes asks and Brownie looks shifty.

"Theoretically," he says which Mitch thinks means no.

"You're not going back to Ottawa," Freddie says. Brownie lifts his head enough to look at him, looking as confused as Mitch feels. Freddie nods, keeping his arm around Brownie's waist. "You've been to my apartment. Can you get yourself there in one piece?"

"Yeah, of course," Brownie scoffs. Freddie levels him with a steady glare and Brownie ducks his head. "I mean, I'm probably going to fall over right after and be useless for a couple of days but I can totally _get_ there."

"Then you should go there," Freddie says, leaning in to kiss him lightly. "There should be food in the fridge. Take whatever you need. I'm not sure how long this is going to take."

"You s-sure?" Brownie's shivering, trying to pull Freddie's sweater tighter around him.

"Yes," Freddie glances at the rest of them before turning his attention back to Brownie. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"Take your time," Brownie half-smiles. "Like I said, I'm gonna be useless until I've slept some of this off."

"We've got time," Freddie says easily and Brownie smiles back at him.

Mitch looks down at his pelt. He can't keep it out like this. Coach'll take it again and Mitch isn't ready to trust the staff. He shakes it out and crosses over to where Brownie's still leaning into Freddie with his eyes half-closed and the occasional shiver running through him. Brownie stiffens up the second the pelt touches his shoulders and he looks around at Mitch with wide eyes.

"I'm supposed to leave it with one of the boys," Mitch says like it's not a big deal. It's not. It's Brownie. Brownie wouldn't ever steal it. "I figure you've already returned it twice so I'm probably safe."

"I'll be careful," Brownie promises while Freddie smiles fondly at them both.

"I know," Mitch yawns and Brownie laughs at him.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who needs to get some sleep."

"I figure we've got a couple of hours to nap," Mitch says. "They don't need us to say anything. Most of the media has their columns written already."

"You were unlucky," Brownie says. "Next year."

"Yeah, maybe," Mitch scrapes up a smile. "We'll see."

Hyms and Willy close in to hug Brownie and make him promise that they'll see him before he goes back to Ottawa. Brute exchanges a fist-bump and a promise that they'll see each other later before he heads back up.

"I should let JT know we found you," Hyms says reluctantly.

"I should get some sleep," Willy flashes an entirely forced smile. "Media are going to be vicious."

They all head for the elevators but Mitch hangs back. He sees Freddie pull Brownie in for another kiss and they both hold on for a few seconds longer. Freddie lets him go with visible reluctance and steps back. Brownie closes his eyes and breathes in. His Song is barely audible this time and the mist barely comes together enough to hide him. Then he's gone, like he was never there.

Freddie stays there for a long minute. Mitch can't see his expression but his shoulders sink and he heaves a heavy sigh before he turns around. Mitch hits the button for the elevator, holding the button as Freddie follows him in.

"Come on," Mitch says. "Sooner we're done, the sooner you can go home to your boy."

Freddie laughs, looking surprised at himself and Mitch grins at him. It's not the win he wanted to end his season on but he's feeling a lot better. He's just faced down an actual _army_ of Singers. Even the worst of the Toronto media can't scare him now.


End file.
